


What Comes to Pass

by marimoes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, end of act 2, tarot reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: “Do you know her, Varric?”Varric finishes tossing his coin into the pot and leans up to look. “Oh, yeah! She’s harmless. Does those card readings that can tell you your future. Very creepy. Makes me wish I would’ve gotten one before the expedition and then maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised about my bastard of a brother.”Anders laughs. “You don’t actually believe in it do you? No one can tell the future.”“I wanna know,” Hawke says, pushing up from the table, and is too far away for Anders to catch his coat once he realizes. “I have questions.”
Relationships: Anders & Male Hawke, Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	What Comes to Pass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twelveshots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveshots/gifts).



Varric deals another hand across the table quickly, letting the cards skitter to a stop in front of each player’s hands. They pull them up to look before placing their bets in the middle, each with a different color of emotion on their faces. Hawke is wonderful at bluffing in the field, talking people out of things he doesn’t actually mean, but during cards it couldn’t be more opposite. Anders can read just what the crinkle in his mouth means and apparently so can Varric as he raises the pot. 

Hawke doesn’t do as Merrill does when people raise. He doesn’t count his losses and let go even if he truly has a terrible hand. Instead, he insists on holding out for something better. Always holding out for something better, Anders notes, hands wringing anxiously in his lap. 

Does he hope for the same when they fall asleep each night now? Or was Anders just what he was holding out for? He doesn’t know the answer well enough to bring him peace, and if Hawke is bluffing about wanting him in his home, he’s doing a marvelous job. 

“In or out, Blondie.” 

Anders turns his attention back to the river, looking at the two cards that have been presented. They’re not the best, but he at least has two pair and that might earn him more if he can score another set. He tosses in a check, letting his eyes again drift away into the open floor of The Hanged Man. 

“What are you looking for?” Hawke murmurs, moving close enough that the brush of his beard tickles Anders’ neck. “Do you have some sneaky spy system to see their cards, because if so, I want in. I don’t trust Bela for as far as I can throw her.” 

“That’s still rather far,” Isabela sighs, leaning her head on her hand. “We can hear you, you know. Your whispering skills aren’t much to be desired.” 

Hawke tsks, kissing Anders’ cheek once before leaning back. 

He tosses in a check alongside the others with a low hum, fiddling with his cards. Still, there is a prickle of something that sits on Anders’ neck. Like someone is watching him intently, a sensation he’s become far too aware of over the course of his life. Eyes sweeping the room, he finds the source in a small woman in the opposite corner. She’s sitting alone, with a deck sitting tall and together before her. 

She curls her finger, calling Anders to her, and when he shakes his head and tries to look back to the game, he hears her clear her throat. 

“There is a woman over there that is staring at us,” Anders whispers to Hawke, eyes fighting not to look back again. They instead scan Hawke quickly, looking for any large patches of blood or anything potentially concerning that the man still has on him. “Do you know her, Varric?” 

Varric finishes tossing his coin into the pot and leans up to look. “Oh, yeah! She’s harmless. Does those card readings that can tell you your future. Very creepy. Makes me wish I would’ve gotten one before the expedition and then maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised about my bastard of a brother.” 

Anders laughs. “You don’t actually believe in it do you? No one can tell the future.” 

“I wanna know,” Hawke says, pushing up from the table, and is too far away for Anders to catch his coat once he realizes. “I have questions.” 

Anders scrambles up from the table all at once, foot catching on the bench with a sharp hiss and stumbles behind. He knows he can’t really stop Hawke once he’s decided what he wants to do, but he can at least try to be a voice of reason amidst the nonsense the woman is about to spew at him. 

When he gets there, she’s already started shuffling the cards. Hawke is grinning like a boy, full of intrigue and wonder, and taps the table to signal her to stop. She looks over to Anders, smiling with a grin that is missing a few teeth, and ushers them both to pull up a chair. Hawke does so at once, but Anders waves a short dismissive hand to signal that he’d rather stand. 

“I take it that you’re not convinced,” the woman says, finger stroking the stop card softly. “How about I just pull a single card for each of you? Nothing complicated, just a signal of where you are right now, so no future is involved.” 

Hawke looks up to Anders tilting his head towards her in a sharp jerk, grin tugging on his lips. “Come on. Just one card, Anders. It won’t hurt anything.” 

Sinking into the chair, Anders throws a hand up for her to continue and both she and Hawke grin. Her fingers slide the card back against the deck, still keeping it face down as she looks between them both. With eyes closed, she turns to Anders before reopening them, and he’s certain that the emotion that swims within them is nostalgia. 

But he doesn’t know this woman and she definitely doesn’t know him. 

“You first,” She says, pulling the card around to where it will sit in front of Anders. Flipping it, Anders nearly snorts. “The sun, upright.” 

Anders shakes his head, waving a dismissive hand. “I think you got that wrong. I’m not the sun here. You must mean him.” 

Hawke makes a soft huff of argument at the reasoning, but leans forward in his chair. “What does that mean about him, exactly?” 

“Let me first pull yours, serah. Then we can talk about you both. You are together, aren’t you?” Her eyes float between the two of them and when Anders blushes she smiles. “New love, too. How wonderful it is to find a partner, even in a place such as this.” 

Her hand again draws against the top of the deck, holding it face down until it lands before Hawke. It is flipped quickly and Anders watches as the woman’s eyebrows raise in surprise. 

“The moon, reversed. Interesting, interesting,” She mumbles, finger tapping against her lips. Again, she ushers a hand to draw them in closer and Anders jumps at the sound of Hawke’s chair scraping against the floor. “You two have seen a lot together, haven’t you?” 

“Isn’t that just a Tuesday in Darktown?” Anders mutters with a tsk of a laugh, shooting Hawke a look. 

He doesn’t find his partner’s eyes though. They’re still focused ahead on the woman, as he nods softly. 

“You, serah, the sun. You said you thought the card belonged to him instead… why?” She asks, fingernail dragging against the shape of the sun illustration. “This says you are a light. That you have drive and a determination that others look to for guidance. You’re fighting a battle every day—a worthy one at that. Is that not you?” 

“It is,” Hawke interrupts, throwing a glance to Anders. “You are a sun.” 

Anders feels heat and discomfort stir in his chest. That’s not who he is. He’s not some bright light that people gravitate to and circle, if only to work within a system that thrives.

That’s Hawke. He’s the one bright spot in Kirkwall—in Anders’ life. 

“So, what does his mean?” Anders deflects, nodding towards the moon card that rests in front of Hawke.

The illustration depicts two mabari howling at the sky, with a river separating them. Is that supposed to be a clue? 

Hawke makes a soft ‘hmph’ noise, clearly uninterested in his own when there is more that could be said about Anders. 

“Serah, that smile you wear, while often genuine, is just as often not. You’re struggling with processing your emotions as of late. Why won’t you let others in?” The woman’s voice is soft as she speaks, hands curling to rest her chin into them. 

Discomfort radiates off of Hawke in a way only Anders would know to look for. That subtle shift in the chair, eyes that flit away before returning, fingers rubbing against his thumb empty of a worry stone. 

Leandra has been gone three months now, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Losing a sibling was hard enough on Hawke, sitting in the back of his mind each time they face darkspawn. But now, only having a single family member left that isn’t even here anymore… 

Anders wants to reach over and place a hand in comfort, and nearly does with twitching hesitation, but stops when Hawke clears his throat.

“I let others in fine. They know what they need to,” Hawke says, voice low, much like his eyes. 

“The cards say otherwise. Pain is a part of life and no one will fault you for being upset. Your partner here—he knows this side of you, yes?” 

At this, Anders does reach out. He curls quickly around Hawke’s hand, digging nails into tan calloused skin. His eyes stay focused down at the card on the table, but he squeezes back in recognition. This settles Anders’ stomach a little. A touch of understanding he hoped was there in this relationship that still feels too good to be true. 

“He… knows more than most. I really don’t know what this has to do with anything,” Hawke mutters, rubbing his beard with his free hand, pressing a hard thumb against the edge of his jaw. “Even if I did tell the others, that would just burden them and—whatever, the point is I’m fine. Aren’t I supposed to be the fool? Where’s that card?” 

Anders feels his stomach stir at the confession pushed behind the quick excuse that just tumbled from Hawke’s mouth. He knows he feels the same about his own issues, the ones tucked deep in the back of his mind that tangle so often with Justice. But for Hawke to feel like he can’t… 

“I’m sorry, I feel like this isn’t exactly helpful right now. Thanks for the cards, I guess, but we’ll be going now,” Anders says, tugging on Hawke’s hand before starting to stand. Where he expects to meet resistance from his partner, Hawke lifts alongside him with no argument. 

Hawke himself doesn’t reply, only pulls from Anders’ hold, and starts to walk towards the bar. 

“Serah, one thing before you go,” the woman says, drawing Anders’ attention back. Her hand pulls against the top of the deck, flipping it against the table quickly. There is an image of two women, arms intertwined as they drink from cups held by the other. “Ah, as I thought—two of cups, upright. This is not just a fling, no? You benefit each other in a way the rest of your friends do not.” 

A hard swallow forces down Anders’ throat before he replies, “What of it?” 

“Nothing, nothing, serah. Just that you are here for each other, you feed into each other’s needs and desires. You pour yourselves into the other. Sustaining, loving and eternal.” Her nails tap against the card with each word, steady, and knocks deeper into Anders’ chest. “Do you not feel more whole with him than anyone you’ve been with before? An understanding. An intertwining.” 

Almost like an itch on his skin, the woman’s words drag across Anders. She’s not wrong. Hawke has been more to Anders in this short time, hell even over the years of their friendship, than anyone had been before. Apart, in kind, from the peace he had with Karl. 

Even so, Hawke has always been different.

“Yes,” Anders agrees, eyes closing as he focuses on his volume. “Hawke—isn’t something I would discuss with a stranger.” 

The woman laughs softly, collecting her cards back into the deck, shuffling them softly once together. Her eyes glance to Hawke at the bar, now leaned with a mug against his mouth. 

“Just know you are a light to him. You are a sun, whether you believe it to be true or not. If you do not think you can shine for yourself… shine for him as he clearly does for you. This is your balance, a moon that reflects the light of the sun that shines upon it,” She says, voice softening, almost wistful. 

“Blondie!” 

Turning to Varric’s voice, Anders sees the rest of the group starting to gather towards the door. Hawke is looking at him, eyes clearly tired, and Anders starts to move without thought. He looks back at the woman a final time, tight smile weakened to something more genuine. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

* * *

Hawke is quiet when they settle in for the night. It’s a barrier Anders tries to overcome several times, asking questions here and there as they prepare to sleep. Asking if he wants more wood on the fire or if he needs something for a bath. Ultimately, when they lie next to each other, shoulders touching, he breaks. 

“You can talk about it if you want to, you know. You aren’t a burden,” Anders murmurs, eyes still on the canopy top. 

He hears Hawke suck in a breath of air, quick and shallow, and wonders if he should’ve just let it go. But he would just wonder about it for days if he didn’t say something, and he can’t let Hawke think that he didn’t hear him. Truly hear him, for what he said. 

“It’s not like you can do anything about the situation, Anders. She’s dead. I have to get through it just like I got through—”

“ _But I can_ ,” Anders interrupts, pushing himself up on his elbow to look down at Hawke. Their eyes meet with a lull of exhaustion. “We can talk about this. You can say you miss her. These are things that will help and won’t burden me.” 

Hawke shakes his head against the pillow, lifting a hand up to making a coaxing motion before patting his chest. A returning head shake is given by Anders, cementing his hand into the bed. 

“Please, you do so much already there is no way I would ever put anything else on you. Just sleep,” Hawke says, patting his chest once more, reaching out to stroke up Anders’ arm with his other. 

“I will sleep once you realize you aren’t putting anything on me I don’t want to carry,” Anders argues gently, and reaches out to place a hand on Hawke’s against his chest. “I love you, Hawke. That means every part of you, even the stuff you want to hide.” 

An unwilling snort presses from Hawke’s nose. “And you? The things you won’t let me carry? I love you too, messere sun.” 

“I mean it!” 

“So do I!” 

Anders grits his teeth, gnawing on the skin just behind his lips before relenting to falling against the bed with a loud sigh. Hawke quickly finds his place, arms trapping Anders against his side, pinning a large, splayed hand against his hip. Hooking his leg up and across Hawke’s waist, Anders too finds his place before burying his head into the tangled brown hair that covers Hawke’s chest. 

“I promise I will tell you more,” Hawke murmurs, vibrating Anders’ ear with the low rumble of his voice. He pauses, stroking a slow line up and down Anders’ spine, and only when Ander rocks them does he continue, “You’re the only family I have in the city, though I didn’t really ever tell my family much to begin with so maybe I should call you some—”

Pushing himself up, Anders kisses Hawke harshly. A single unaimed kiss before he gets his bearings and gives another softer one to follow. He can feel Hawke smile before opening his mouth a touch, letting Anders slide into his final place. 

When he’s this close to Hawke, skin against skin, lips and noses brushing, he starts to understand what the woman said earlier a little more. Hawke glows in these moments, reflecting the love Anders pours out of himself. Each little drop desperate and eager, reflecting back in a hum or a sweep of a tongue in his mouth. They belong together, giving and receiving in an eternal dance that only makes them stronger. 

There is much Anders doesn’t know about the future, cards or no—and at times that terrifies him to the point of being frozen in place—but there are a few certainties that keep him going. 

The warmth in Hawke’s hands pressing into his skin, holding him to the earth. A sweet laugh floating on his skin just after Hawke nips at it a moment before. Affection that permeates time and words each time they lie next to each other at night, being the first and last thing the other sees each day. Light that reflects, fills their cups full, makes them drunk on a love that feels once in a lifetime. 

Should Anders have it his way, it will be once, and he will gladly shine for Hawke until he burns out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you thank you to my dear friend for requesting this piece. It was an absolute pleasure to write them like this. I just love exploring their relationship and how the rely on one another. Ugh, my heart. 
> 
> Twitter: @__moes__  
> Tumblr: @noswordstyle


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